Gemotions

From his perch at the back of the auditorium, Harold observed the presentation with arms crossed. “The Marvelous Marion’s Meatloaf” was what the young woman was calling it, a culinary demonstration of a dish Harold invented himself decades ago. He’d never gotten around to packaging and selling it.

Harold was sure it was his recipe. He recognized the exact shape and the specific spice blend. The young woman was explaining each step as if it were some divine inspiration, a new invention. Harold wanted to shout.

He felt the blood rush to his face, a burning sensation in his cheeks. He remembered all the hours he'd spent perfecting the recipe, the countless taste tests, the family gatherings where it was the star. He had the original handwritten recipe card in his pocket. He decided to leave, unable to bear another moment.